We had a grand ole' time on Cael's first fourth of July.
We went to the patriotic program at the park. Gramma, Uncle Tyson, Aunt Sasha, and Caden were there with us. We spent time with Cael's other family, the Davis', and Hope took great care of him, of course. We ate barbeque, well Cael didn't eat much, supported a bake sale, and then went to the races, the moment for which we had all been eagerly waiting.
Grandma Jill and Aunt Julie came over from Holbrook to help cheer on Cael.
Ready, set, go! Mama pushed Cael a little to get him going, and he did a face plant into the grass. The three babies who started just sat there, as all around them chanted, "Go, go, go!" I threw his pacifier out to see if he would go for that, which spurred on no movement still. A couple of other competitors had joined the race at this time, but there was still little action. Let's just say there were many tortoises and no hare (no hair on Cael, either, might I add). I crawled out next to him, and he then followed me about halfway. I moved to the other side with Dad and the others, hoping he would come to me. Nope. Then, Hope got down there, called him to her, and he darted across the finish line with amazing (ahem) speed. I guess I know where I rank.
First place he claimed in the amazing race of maybe ten feet. His prize: a Sacajawea dollar for his piggy bank and some Cracker Jacks that he can't eat yet.
What did we learn as parents from this experience?
We are in trouble, as we were way more competitive than Cael; we were both looking down at the other kids out of the corners of our eyes and secretly hoping he would leave them all in his dust.
I apologize in advance, my son.
